I love how much Jesus loves me. So much so that He convicts me of the sin in my life in order to make me more like Him. Let's be honest, if anyone else came to me with that being the reason they addressed me, we'd have serious issues. But it's okay when it's Jesus:)

But boy, did He ever convict me yesterday. He brought my false humility, the self depreciation that goes along with that, the constant comparison with others, and the unhealthy level of interest in what others think about me to the fore. Oh yeah, He seriously busted me.

Although I want His thoughts of me to be the only ones I really desire, they aren't. As if this isn't bad enough, I often get down on myself because my perception of myself usually doesn't measure up to my perception of others. This quite frequently leaves me feeling like a failure and worthless. So He took me to task yesterday about how my perceptions are, first of all, not always accurate or even close to the truth. Second, they shouldn't be more important to me than His thoughts about me. And third, He loves me just the way I am and where I am so I need to relax.

My most constant feelings of failure and lack lie in my being single when I want to be married and not having a "real" career. And it was this line of thinking in which Jesus crashed through. Honestly though, this isn't the first time I've been convicted about this. It's just the first time I've slowed down enough to actually pay attention and allow the conviction and chastisement to sink in.

Acknowledging and accepting correction is never a fun thing. Good maybe, but never fun. And though I fully realize this constant assault on myself isn't healthy or Christ-like I'm not sure how to move away from it. I've used the self-depreciation as a shield around my heart and my desires for so long now, I'm not even sure what it would be like to not use it. Where's the line between guarding my heart and hiding myself from others?

Man, I'm so bad about having lots of thoughts in my head and just as many drafts started, but not finished or posted. It's sad really. I so hoped to be better with this blog than I was with the other. Here's to new beginnings, being more consistent, and blogging my thoughts straight.

Tomorrow.

There are so many thoughts swirling around in my head that I don't think I can get them out in any kind of orderly fashion. I almost want to give up before actually trying.

After much prayer, soul searching, and a hard drive crashing computer virus, I figured out what and how I feel about everything I've been blogging about most recently. Actually, it was a couple I saw at church that God used to usher in His clarity, but the lack of a computer freed up lots of time to make sure it stuck!

This couple, he looked to be of Asian decent and she was white. I was struck by their lack of physical similarities yet their mutual worship of God individually and as a couple. The worship of a God that I also worship. Although I don't know anything about them and their relationship specifically, I was struck by the thought of what God must think about their relationship. I'm fairly certain He doesn't see an Asian man and a white woman, but rather He saw two children worshipping Him and encouraging each other to grow in their knowledge of Him.

It was if I was seeing a glimpse of God's original design for the first time and it was such a beautiful and exotic picture. He created each and every person on this Earth. He doesn't care about skin color, background, finances, degrees, demographics. He only sees the beloved children He created, the children He wants to turn from their sin and seek His presence above all else.

I quite often succumb to caring more about what others think than what God thinks. I'm plagued by and overcome with false societal thoughts and opinions. I fear the struggle with prejudiced thoughts and attitudes is one that will constantly nip at my heels.

But I can say, only by the grace of God, that it's a struggle that won't dominate my life. I better understand what was meant when the adoptive dad said the only history his adopted son needs know is his [the father's]...as the son, a fully loved, completely accepted, and newly grafted branch in the family tree, his history becomes that of his father. The past is of no importance. The only thing that matters is what the father thinks and believes of his child; thus changing everything anyone, even the child, may think of himself. Nothing but my Father defines me. How I rejoice at that thought!

It's all about Him. Glorifying Him. Praising Him. Honoring Him. Representing Him. Sharing Him. Knowing Him.

Oh, that I might live a life that lives up to that...

This examination of my heart isn't fun or comfortable. It has kept my sin and failure ever before me. Which is a good thing, but it's so ugly and all I want to do it turn from it, to deny it's existence in my heart.

But I can't.

However, I have come to recognize, with a blazing new clarity, the miracle and amazing gift of the Cross. Jesus was fully aware of all this ugliness, this sin, this darkness in me yet He went to the Cross for me. I'm completely flabbergasted by His willingness to save such an ugly hearted sinner.

But I also need to figure out where these prejudices stem from and what I need to do to get deal with them, to push through my erroneous thinking. I don't like that part of me is less than Christ-like towards others. Have I allowed society to cloud my thinking? What in me struggles to accept those that aren't like me?

I was reading an article today written by a black woman about how a lot of women, but especially black women, have certain ideals of what they want their boyfriends and husbands to be and look like.

As a side note, I think this some of this stems from the proven fact that college educated black women outnumber college educated black men 3 to 1. As most people do, these women want to be with someone like themselves. Whether that means someone with a similar ethnicity/history, goals, salary, hobbies, or experiences their desire for comfortableness and similarity often causes them to look for what they think this "rightness" looks like, but their perceptions don't always lend to being a true representation. People are unexpected. There is no "typicalness" to bestow on every person, just our own stereotypes and prejudices. What is right about one isn't about another.

But I digress. The author goes on to say that this having standards is not necessarily a good or bad thing unless these women are dismissing great men, as many often do, because they don't look like the picture of the ideal man they hold in their heads. Something, she says, she knows from experience. She reflected on how she almost missed out on an amazing opportunity to get to know and date the sweetest and funniest man because of his looks. She said his dreadlocks were an immediate deterrent because she first wondered if he had a job, any education, goals, etc.

How often do I do this? How often have I not been intentional about meeting others because they don't appear to be people I would connect with? What fears and/or insecurities do I hold that cause me to stay away? From where is the root of pride that makes me think my college education, car, house, clothes, accomplishments, goals, etc. gives me the power to treat others as less than myself because they may not be as "educated" or "well off" as I am? And when it comes down to it, how educated or well off am I really?

And where in all the self focus is the love of Christ?

"It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his two-ness, -an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder."

-W.E.B. Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folks

I understand what Mr. Du Bois is talking about. I feel that I'm constantly pulled in a million different ways. There is a constant battle of what being black is and who I am, others perceptions of me as myself and then because I'm black, and my perceptions of others. And then my ultimate struggle lies in the knowledge that my perceptions aren't always Christ-like. How can I be a good or even decent Christian with these perceptions?

And by perceptions I mean prejudices.

I'm wary of large black men who, by my estimation, don't look like they have any goals or a job. I tend to think worse of black women who don't have "good" hair. I get disgusted with grossly overweight people. I tend to feel more comfortable around lighter skinned black people or those who seem to be more like me. I don't like "ghetto" black people, ghetto by my definition, and how I think their actions reflect on all black people. And I wonder how others perceive all blacks based on the actions of a few.

I'm feeling very hypocritical and exposed. I think I'll go ahead and call it a day...

Even now the insecurities and questions of my experiences plague me.

Am I good enough? Does being black hold me back? Will the fact that I don't know many goal oreinted black men keep me from getting married? Or will I marry someone not black? Am I prepared for the criticism that typically comes with interracial relationships? Do I want to bring children into that kind of environment? Why am I fearful of what others think? Whose opinion of me really matters?

And then there's the line of questioning in regards to wanting to adopt. I have no problem with the thought of loving a child with a different color of skin than my own, but can I do justice by that child? I know in my head that love transcends skin color, but do I believe that with my whole heart? Do I teach that child about their country and culture of birth? Or does my heritage and family become all they need to know about?

I think there is such a thing as innate cultural tendencies. I have a Korean friend who was adopted by a white family as an infant. The adoption agency told her parents that she, my friend, would sweat a lot and sing. Her mom thought it a racist comment until my friend sweated more than any of their biological children and she not only sang, but she'd correct others if they were off key. How could I, not being of the same culture, begin to parent such a child?

But as I verbalize questions and fears, maybe for the first time, I realize that these are questions not very different than what any parent asks. How do you parent a child with gifts and talents unlike your own? You never know until you're put in that situation, but you handle it accordingly because you love that child. I firmly believe being a parent is more than just being a DNA donor. A parent is one who will stand for, fight for, love, discipline, and nurture a child. It isn't simply a biological occurence. It is a delicate, loving, unexplainable, and intricate bond formed between an adult and a child regardless of skin color.

That's a challenge I would love to take on.

But I worry that my prejudices may stand in the way of being used in such a way.

Like I said, I grew up in middle class America with the majority of my friends being white. Any friend or crush of mine was most likely not black. There weren't many black families, especially young black families like mine, in our area. My brother teased me by saying I was more comfortable around whites than blacks, which to some degree is true. My friends in high school started calling me Samantha, what they described as an all-American white girl name, because it fit me better than my given "black girl" name. This moniker was further propagated, against the backdrop of the other blacks in my area, by my desire and drive to do well. My high school was in a small, country Texas town where many people didn't leave. Or if they did they came right back after college. I don't know if it was ever a conscious decision, but I knew that wouldn't be me. Plus, I had parents who pushed me to do well, who wanted more for me. So I took the AP classes, got involved with various organizations, got a part time job, and volunteered...I did all the right things for college applications. And was harassed by my black classmates for being "too white."

Where did I fit in? I wanted more than what I saw around me. I wanted more than what my parents had. They wanted more for me. We were infinitely blessed in that they were able to carve out a comfortable life for us, but they wanted more for us than the struggles they faced. But how do you become a successful when you feel that you don't fit anywhere? When you don't feel like you have enough or the right things to get ahead? My desire to be more put me at odds with a lot of the other black kids, but I never really felt as if I truly fit in with the other kids whose dreams were more in line with what I wanted.

How do you overcome that? Can I overcome that?